


Warm as a Mitten, Tight as a Glove

by Attalander



Series: Mitten Yarns (MagnusxKitten TTS) [1]
Category: If the Emperor had a Text-to-Speech Device, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Large Cock, Light Masochism, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Orgasms, Size Difference, Size Kink, Snark, Sub Drop, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29824245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attalander/pseuds/Attalander
Summary: After Kitten's card game with Tzeench, Magnus is trapped in his true daemonic form, and his true daemonic size. Luckily for the two of them, Custodians are very,veryflexible, and Kitten's a glutton for punishment.
Relationships: Magnus the Red/Captain General | Kitten
Series: Mitten Yarns (MagnusxKitten TTS) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200902
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Warm as a Mitten, Tight as a Glove

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this entirely on my friend (you know who you are), because Mitten shipping is contagious.
> 
> I like to think that Kitten enjoys his nickname in a sexual context; it's the fact that it's spread outside the bedroom that pisses him the fuck off. Not everyone wants to flash their kinks around like a pair of glistening, oiled pecs.
> 
> (And yes, I know this messes a little with when exactly the card game happened. Just go with it.)

“This was easier before that damn card game...” the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes - aka Kitten - groaned. He was splayed out face-down on his magically-enlarged shipboard bunk, trying to relax around the massive intrusion in his ass.

Kitten was well-prepared and experienced, nine feet of chiseled, gene-crafted perfection, but taking the huge red cock was still a challenge. Magnus’s daemon form was eighteen feet tall and proportionally well hung, a combination that pushed the smaller man to his limits. It was a deep, burning, aching stretch, perfect and painful and impossibly good. He hadn’t felt this opened-up since his Tribunes had triple-teamed him during his... phase, and the Primarch wasn’t even all the way in yet.

“Fucking children’s card games...” Magnus grumbled in agreement, pushing his cock in another few inches. “ _Fuck_ Tzeench-“

“N-no way,” The custodian groaned, “fucking a Daemon Primarch is bad enough, thank you.”

“Perhaps I should stop, then,” Magnus said, pausing his slow penetration. “If I’m such a terrible monster.“

“No, don’t!” Kitten gasped. “D-don’t stop!“

“Oh?” Magnus’s grin was audible, his voice inordinately smug. “You wanna get fucked by the big, bad daemon?”

“You _know_ I do, asshole,” Kitten grumbled.

“No, _this_ is an asshole,” Magnus said, rolling his hips to push his cock deeper still. “A surprisingly tight one for a dirty little slut like you.”

“You’re j-just unreasonably huge,” Kitten groaned, the horny part of his psyche practically glowing at the words. “It’s ridiculous...”

“Oh come come, companion,” Magnus purred, sinking in the rest of the way. Massive crimson thighs pressed against equally-muscled brown ones, as he pinned the Custodian down beneath his body. “You _know_ you like it.”

The Captain-General opened his mouth for another sarcastic quip, but all that came out was a desperate whimper. The Primarch’s cock was so huge and hard and hot, stretching out places that Kitten had never even known existed. Nothing he’d done during his time among the nude and oily had been this satisfying, and Magnus hadn’t even started _moving_ yet.

Then he did, slowly pulling back only to thrust back in with a quick, hard snap of his hips. It was just the way Kitten liked it, just the way they’d done it before Magnus had been stuck in this massive form, but with the new dimension of his lover’s size. The sheer unrelenting stretch, the impossible depth, reduced the Custodian to desperate, mewling cries.

“No wonder they call you Kitten,” Magnus growled over his companion’s desperate noises. “You’re almost purring.”

“F-f- _fuck_ you...” the Captain-General gasped back. It was hard to come up with a creative insult while being brought to the edge of delirium by the Primarch’s pounding hips.

“That’s the idea,” Magnus said with another audible smirk. He kissed the top of the Custodian’s head, gripping the smaller man’s mahogany wrists in great, crimson hands. “Now brace yourself!”

Any possible reply was driven from Kitten’s lungs, punched out by a hard, fierce thrust. He wailed in pleasure, then again and again as the crimson giant above him kept fucking him. It was so gloriously, deliciously rough that it made Kitten’s head spin. He’d always had a size kink and a thing for rough sex but this was beyond anything he could’ve dreamed of. It was no wonder people fell to Chaos all the damn time.

Of course Kitten wouldn’t, not even if there were twenty hunky, nerdy, surprisingly sweet cyclopses with poor taste in armor-spike placement beckoning to him. He served the Emperor and Imperium loyally, but it was his desire to serve that had gotten into this in the first place. Without his daily tasks of answering questions, giving sponge-baths, killing slime monsters, brewing tea and baking 10,000 individualized pizzas, he’d felt adrift.

The only wonder was that he’d lasted three full days before first asking Magnus if he wanted a blowjob. One thing had led to another, and the next thing Kitten knew he was riding the Primarch’s dick with a fervor that would shame an Atillan, and revealing his greatest, most embarrassing secret weakness.

The Custodes earned their names, every word of them, and Kitten’s least-favorite (and most-used) sobriquet was no exception. The Captain-General wasn’t just as bad as his Tribunes, he was far, _far_ worse; the most desperate, cock-hungry, submissive little bottom in the entire Ten Thousand.

“P-please sir...” Kitten moaned, rutting futilely back against the massive body pinning him down. If it had been merely physical weight he could have moved Magnus easily, but nobody could shift a Primarch who didn’t want to be shifted. “ _Please!_ I n-need more, m-more of your cock! You’re so... you’re so _f_ - _fucking_ big...”

“You get more when I _say_ you get more, little Kitten,” the crimson giant growled, pounding into his lover with rough, precise thrusts aimed squarely at the Custodian’s prostate.

“S-sorry sir,” Kitten gasped, “it’s just- you’re just so good, s-so good I can’t-“

“Oh, by all means keep begging,” Magnus purred, “I _like_ it.”

Kitten didn’t need telling twice, his mouth rambling on with no conscious control; Magnus was amazing, perfect, the best he’d had in his whole life. Every word was completely true, but that didn’t make saying those words any less embarrassing. The worst thing, though, was that the shame made him harder than ever, and fed the Primarch’s massive ego in the bargain.

“ _Please_ give it to me sir!” Kitten whined, “I’ll be good, s-so good for you... I love it sir, love the way you fuck me, _love_ your cock in my ass...”

“Of course you do, companion,” Magnus said, “you were made to serve, weren’t you? To be a good little toy?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Kitten wailed. “Please, _please_ use me my lord-“

The giant atop him made a fierce, primal noise and started slamming in harder, faster, impossibly deeper. It was more than the Custodian had ever taken in his life, the Primarch’s strength and size far greater than before, and Kitten knew there was even more to come. He couldn’t speak any more, couldn’t even beg, the words all fucked out of him. He could only lay there and take it, sobbing and mewling and whimpering like the needy little bitch he was.

“What,” Magnus gasped, his own breath coming faster now, “lost for words? Come on, Companion, you’ve always got something to say.”

Kitten’s master wanted him to speak, to obey, so he gathered all his willpower into a single, broken word.

“ _Please_...”

That did it. With a fierce growl Magnus pulled out, only to rise to his knees and grab the Custodian’s hips, lifting them to align with his own. The new size difference made true doggy-style impossible, though; the smaller man’s toes were barely able to touch the bed, and he had to brace his hands on the mattress for any kind of stability. He was helpless in the Primarch’s massive hands, and he loved it.

The first thrust was so deep it made Kitten scream before the Primarch’s brutal, punishing rhythm fucked him senseless and breathless. Magnus snapped his own hips forward as he yanked the Custodian’s back, treating the smaller man like a living sex toy. For once Magnus didn’t aim for Kitten’s prostate, abandoned all technique and just took his own pleasure from his lover’s body. The smaller man whimpered in submissive delight; Kitten was just a vessel, just a toy to be used and fucked and filled, and it made him feel better than he had in ten thousand years.

He fell down and down into sweet, blissful subspace, lulled by the pain and the pleasure and the feeling of being used.This was what the Custodians had been chasing for so long, what every oiled, glistening one of them had been subconsciously seeking for millennia.

For this brief, shining moment, the nightmare was over; the Heresy had never even happened. The Captain-General had not lost his master, had not failed his one and only purpose in life, had not shattered so thoroughly he could never be fixed. Now he was whole, unbroken, useful; he was a tool once more, serving as he was meant to serve.

Perhaps Kitten shouldn’t have been able to handle the full, unrestrained force of a Daemon Primarch’s pounding cock but he _could_ and he _did_ and he _loved_ it _._ His body knew its purpose, and as he fulfilled it and was himself fulfilled. He could please Magnus, please his master with none of the stresses and complexities of the real world. All he had to do was _be_ , and that was enough.

Kitten barely noticed his own orgasm, coming untouched as he wailed and gasped and took his master’s cock. He was more focused on the way Magnus twitched inside him, flipping him over and lifting him so they were chest to muscular chest. The Custodian whined, wrapping his thighs around his master’s massive hips and squeezing tight.

“ _Fuck_ , Kitten,” he gasped, leaning down to kiss the top of his lover’s head, then his lips when the Custodian craned his neck upwards in desperate supplication. The smaller man grabbed his lover’s horns, grinding down on that huge cock still splitting him open.

“ _Please_...” Kitten keened, desperate to fulfill his mission, his purpose. “P- _please_ use me, sir, I exist only to serve you...”

“Fucking _Warp_ ,” Magnus groaned against his lover’s lips, the Primarch’s single eye squeezing shut. His massive hands gripped the Custodian’s hips even tighter, bruising nigh-invulnerable skin as he thrust his tongue into his lover’s gasping mouth.

Then Magnus started fucking Kitten again, slamming the smaller man’s body up and down on his huge, crimson cock, gravity only adding to the depth and force. The Custodian whimpered and wailed, his ass used and abused so thoroughly his mind was drowning in rapture. It was his purpose to please, to serve, and from the way Magnus throbbed within him he knew he was doing a fine job.

Kitten writhed as his master fucked him, the post-orgasm sensitivity making him unable to hold still, but it only seemed to arouse the crimson giant more. The Primarch held his squirming lover like he weighed nothing at all and slammed into him over and over, faster and faster, making the smaller man take it like the playtoy he was.

“Such a whore,” Magnus purred against Kitten’s lips. “You dirty slut, you’re nothing but my little fuck-hole aren’t you?”

Kitten couldn’t manage words but his desperate whine seemed to be answer enough; the Primarch chuckled as he kept going, thoroughly wrecking the Custodian’s ass.

Kitten sighed blissfully, gripping his lover’s horns as he let everything else go. He drifted in a soft, lovely haze, both distant from and intimately aware of his body and what was happening to it. The world had shrunk to just this room and the two men in it; the servant and his master.

Time passed, but Kitten didn’t know or care how long. Magnus was a Primarch and a Daemon Prince on top of that, giving him endurance no mortal man could ever evendream of. Kitten didn’t even bother to keep track of his own dry orgasms, except to note the sounds of approval every time he came untouched on his master’s cock; what mattered far more was the sensation of Magnus filling him up.

It was never just one load with Magnus, nor two or even three; he was the Emperor’s son, perfection made flesh no matter his mutations. He could outperform a Custodian on his worst day, and today was clearly far from his worst; if anything, Magnus seemed driven to even greater desire than usual, fucking his lover without pause even as he pumped the smaller man full of his seed over and over again.

Kitten might have worried about having so much warp-stuff in his ass, but he’d had worse stuff inside him than a half-gallon of daemon semen; fuck, he’d had few things _better_. The Primarch’s cum was so hot it nearly burned and so thick it made him dizzy, painting his inner walls as it filled him up. Each new load pushed the previous ones deeper into him, so deep inside he could practically _taste_ it...

Then he was empty.

Kitten’s hole clenched and spasmed around nothing at all, hot cum leaking out to stain his trembling thighs. He whimpered at the loss, his golden haze of happiness slipping away to be replaced by reality; sweat on his skin, sheets beneath his back and above him the smirking face of Magnus the Red.

The Daemon Prince looked thoroughly fucked and even more unfairly handsome than usual. His crimson skin glistened under a sheen of sweat, his fiery hair was mussed and his wing-feathers ruffled. That single blazing eye swept up and down Kitten’s body, taking in every inch of the wrecked, bruised and cum-stained Custodian with obvious self-satisfaction.

“See?” The Primarch said, slightly breathless and insufferably smug, “told you you’d like it.”

“Nnnggguh,” Kitten replied eloquently.

“Oh, what was that?” Magnus asked, his shit-eating grin growing wider. “I didn’t quite catch it. Was it something about my ‘huge, amazing cock’?”

“Fff... fff... fuhhhh...” Kitten panted, but he just didn’t have the energy to wipe the smug look off that handsome face.

Instead he felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, hot and wet and shameful. A Custodian did _not_ cry, let alone the Captain-General, and yet he couldn’t stop it. The world had felt good, safe, _right_ in a way Kitten hadn’t known for millennia, and now it was slipping away.

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asked, “did I actually fuck your brain ou- oh holy shit are you _crying!_?”

“N-no,” Kitten lied, the word turning into a hiccuping sob. It wasn’t fair! He’d been happy, _really_ happy, and now it was over and Magnus was being a colossal crimson dick about it.

Instead of teasing Kitten, though, the sorcerer-king just stared at him, his single eye going wide with what looked almost like panic.

“Did...” Magnus swept his gaze over Kitten, a sorcerous chill in the air as he gazed beneath the skin. “Oh gods, did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” Kitten groaned. “Well, I mean yes, but...”

“Did you hate it?” Magnus asked, great hands fisting the sheets. There was something in his voice that sounded less like a brewing tantrum and more like genuine distress. “Was I no good?”

The Primarch made to pull back, but Kitten reached out to grab a handful of feathers on one great, glossy wing. He buried his fingers in downy softness, fighting the instinct to curl into a ball.

“No,” the Custodian whispered. “You were good, maybe _too_ good... and n-now... now it’s over.”

“Oh,” Magnus said. He swallowed, seeming unsure what to do with this information. “Uh... thank you? Sorry?”

“It’s fine,” Kitten muttered, even though it was the opposite of fine.

“Do you...” Magnus reached out but hesitated, as though worried about touching the man he’d just finished fucking into next century, “do you want a hug or something?”

“Please?” Kitten asked, soft and small.

The next moment he was being pulled into huge, strong arms, those great wings arching around him to shield him from the world. Magnus smelled of sweat and spice and feathers, old books and fresh ink and the faint tingle of ozone. He maneuvered them until they were lying on the bed, Kitten cuddled up to the sorcerer’s broad chest. He felt strangely safe there in the daemon’s arms, and suddenly his walls all came crashing down.

The Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes sobbed into his lover’s chest, heedless of how much ammo he was giving the Primarch. He cried for the Emperor, for Terra and for his maddened brothers. He cried for centuries lost, for hopes shattered and dreams burned to ash. He cried for the home he was flying further and further away from, the place he’d given up in a hopeless attempt to make things right.

He cried until there were no more tears left, nothing left at all but an empty, aching hollow in his chest... yet it felt right somehow, better, like a cold grip on his heart had eased. Tears were meant for that, to wash away painful irritants to the eyes and the heart, a form of biological catharsis as old as mankind.

He’d wept before, of course, for Shadowsun, but this was somehow different. He’d turned his grief into rage then, injecting more poison instead of letting it seep from the wound.

Of course one good cry couldn’t purge millennia of pain, but it did help... and there was something else. As the tears subsided, Kitten noticed a gentle hand on his hair, stroking in a gentle rhythm as soft words filtered into his ears. He didn’t recognize the words, but the sing-song rise and fall of sound was soothing.

“ _Nami nami ya sghiri_  
_Ta ighfa a'al hasiri_  
_Nami a'altimi ta tnzah l'gheymi_  
_W yseer a'ana dawo kbeer_  
_Yedawi a'a kil 'ljeeri_.”

“What’s that?” Kitten muttered against Magnus’s chest. There was no chill in the air, no acrid smell of magic beyond the Primarch’s own scent, so he doubted it was a spell.

“Uh,” Magnus ducked his head bashfully, cheeks tinged a subtly different shade of scarlet. “It’s a traditional Prosperan lullaby. My pops used to sing it to me.”

“Oh,” Kitten said. He’d never heard a lullaby before, let alone one sung to him specifically; his life hadn’t exactly been blessed with parental love. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Magnus said gruffly, clearing his throat. “Seriously don’t, I have a reputation to maintain.”

“As long as you don’t mention... all of this,” Kitten replied, gesturing at his own tear-stained cheeks.

“Deal,” Magnus said. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Kitten said, actually meaning it. He felt his eyelids growing heavy, the product of an intensely physical and emotional day. “Sorry, but I think I might fall asleep on you if you don’t move.”

“I can sleep too, it’s just a choice rather than a need,” Magnus said. A moment later there was a slight sorcerous chill as the lights clicked off.

“No magic in bed,” Kitten groused.

“The bed _is_ magic,” Magnus said, “a normal piece of furniture would have broken in a matter of seconds... not to mention that I had to enlarge it to even fit us both-“

“Uh-huh,” Kitten murmured fondly, not even really listening to his lover’s nerdy ramblings. The sound of his voice was nice, though, with the rhythm of those great twin hearts, beating in tandem. Kitten let the darkness take him, wrapped gently in strong, warm arms and a feathery cocoon of wings, letting the world drift away.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Magnus sings is "[Nami Nami](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0pQVnLIDig)", a traditional middle-eastern lullaby. I wanted to use one from actual Ancient Egypt, and I [found one](https://www.ancient.eu/article/965/the-magical-lullaby-of-ancient-egypt/), but the lyrics weren't available in their original form that I could find.
> 
> Also, awkward-but-trying Magnus is the best and you can't tell me otherwise.


End file.
